Hands That Burn
by Sailor Seraphim
Summary: When you are snatched away from your reason for living, what is the sound your heart makes? Part of the Retrospections Series of stories.


Hands That Burn  
A Sailor Moon Fanfic  
by:  
Sailor Seraphim  
  
  
  
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Author's Notes:  
  
I do not own Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon or any of its related characters. If I did, the villians would all be very bishounen boys. And I would have brought the Dark Kingdom Generals back. As it is, I *do* own the situations which occur in the fic.  
  
SPOILERS for... well, the whole series. All five seasons AND the manga. ESPECIALLY THE MANGA!  
  
On a side note, I happen to *like* Chiba Mamoru and consider him to be one of the most misunderstood characters in anime and manga. There will be NO BASHING of Endymion-sama here.  
  
BEWARE THE ANGST!  
  
Enjoy!  
  
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I have failed her again.   
  
These hands, these useless hands. Why could I not protect her? In all these years... these many, many years, after my vows of strength and support, I have failed her yet again. I begin to question my existence here, with her. I was born only to protect her, to love her, to be there when she needed me.  
  
But, I have failed her yet again.  
  
Sometimes, I think that the Universe has a sense of humor. A very horrible one. Why couldn't Fate have waited one moment longer? Why couldn't I have finished my thought? Kami-sama, just a few more seconds and perhaps she would not have thought me a failure. I remember that instant so well. At this moment I felt truly whole. Our souls were joined together in a moment of true happiness and fulfillment. It seemed at this moment that I could not *feel* her enough. Though our thoughts were the same, our hearts pounded in unison, and her lips parted so easily under mine. The feel of her in my arms... she is so small, so delicate... the shine in her eyes as she looked at me through tears of happiness, that beautiful azure blue of her eyes... all that love, directed at me... the flush on her cheeks as we parted from our kiss, our last kiss... the taste of honey on my lips as she smiled so gently at me... the feel of her golden hair as I ran my fingers through the long lengths of it... my own pounding emotions as I felt my soul resonate with hers...  
  
My hands burn to touch her again.  
  
But now, I have been taken from her. She has been taken from me. Why?!? Why can't we be left alone? Ruthless gods! Have we not suffered enough to keep the world at peace? Why must she always be taken from me? Why must I always fail her when she needs me the most? I died the first time because I was ignorant and did not see the crimes my people were committing. That one cost her life as well, more sins for me to bear. The second time at least I had the opportunity to die the way I was meant to, protecting her. But, even then my body was corrupted and my soul reeled with pain. My possessed body, fighting her, hurting her, killing her... Even when she managed to destroy the evil that ravaged my body -- when she allowed my soul to enter again -- when she looked deeply into my eyes and kissed me with that unparalleled passion, she died with me. We died together. Again. NO! It is not fair to force us to endure so much, when all we wanted to do was love each other. Why, oh ye merciless gods? Why is it destined that we will not be able to be together?   
  
My hands burn in anger.  
  
But even amongst this pain and fury, I cannot help but feel the shame pouring into my body, assaulting my senses. Perhaps... perhaps if I were stronger I would not have been taken yet again. Ah, is this the reason then? Is this the reason for all the pain and heartbreak that we were forced to experience? Are you gods punishing me? Are you telling me that I truly am not worthy of her love? Her boundless and infinite love? It seems that I am not worthy to gaze into the depths of her azure eyes... not worthy of the kisses that taste like heaven... not worthy to hold her lithe frame in my arms and feel at ease in her embrace? Am I truly a man of nothing, not even able to do the one simple thing that my name suggests? Protect. Protect and love her. A simple task, a task that was my pleasure to assume. But, I have failed too often, been deceived too often, and now I see. Perhaps I truly do not deserve her.  
  
My hands burn in disgrace.  
  
No, I will not give her up. I shake these melancholy thoughts from my mind. I will make myself worthy to stand in her presence yet again. You cannot ask a dying man to stop fighting for his life with every ounce of his being. And I will not give her up, the golden-haired goddess that holds my heart in one hand and my soul in the other. I am nothing without her, only a shell of man, wistfully wishing for a better fate. She is mine. And I... I am wholeheartedly hers. I will not give her up without a fight, and even now in death, I laugh at the Grim Reaper. I have a secret that no one else suspects. I will not die. No, not even when my soul is ripped from my body and my heart is trampled into the dust. Not even death will stop me from returning to her side, whether through rebirth or resurrection. Only when she forces me away of her own will, when she pulls herself from my embrace and severs the string of destiny and love between us, will I give up my existence. For without her I am nothing, but as long as she lives there is hope for a wretched man like me.   
  
A fierce desire burns within me. I will see her soon and take her in my arms again. I will love her and protect her and give up my life as many times as necessary to keep that shine in her eyes alive. Heaven has no meaning to me if it means that I must leave her arms.  
  
And my hands burn with hope.  
  
  
  
  
-- Owari -- 


End file.
